


Be My (Nigerian Prince Scam)

by purplesunsets



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (kind of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesunsets/pseuds/purplesunsets
Summary: “You’re catching feelings aren’t you?” Nick deadpans when Clay FaceTimes him later that night.Clay, deliberately and painstakingly, dabs.(Or, the one where George marries Clay for a green card and they accidentally fall in love.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 105
Kudos: 1100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of a very stupid idea at 2 am and this video: https://youtu.be/tKnVHDI4_ds

“Clay, let me be your Nigerian Prince Scam.” George says casually, as though they’re not in the middle of a stream.

“I’m sorry. What?” Clay asks after a pause that stretches too long. “Can you say that one more time, but slower?”

“I’ve been thinking of moving to America for a while. I just can’t see myself furthering my career in England.” George answers honestly. “This is the most logical next step for me right now.”

“So, move to America then. I don’t get why you’re bringing this up to me.” 

“Don’t you remember? I told you, the easiest way for me to get citizenship would be through marriage.” 

Immediately, everything snaps into place and Clay wishes he didn’t know exactly what George is getting at. “No. God, no. That was a joke. Wasn’t it?”

“I mean. Yeah, it  _ was _ a joke, but I wasn’t serious about moving at the time.” George shrugs.

“Couldn’t you wait to bring this up until after the stream?” Clay groans.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’” George laughs, half teasing, half not.

“You’re such an idiot.” Clay scoffs.

—

“You’re the worst.” Clay says. “I’m not kidding. I actually hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” George laughs. “I’m guessing you saw it, too?”

“Yeah. Fucking #dnfmarriagescam is trending on Twitter. What the hell, George?” 

“It’s funny.” George giggles. “I can’t help that I’m a comedic genius, Clay.”

_ “Right.” _ Clay snorts. “So, this was all a joke then? Something to get the stans talking?”

“No. I’m serious, Clay.” George says “I want to move to America.”

“Can’t you just get a green card the normal way?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. But it’d be hard.” 

“Okay. Good luck with that then.” 

“Why won’t you just marry me?” George whines. “We can get divorced after.”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. What am I supposed to tell my family?” Clay bristles.

“Tell them you found a Nigerian Prince.” Clay can’t see George but he knows he has that stupid grin on his face..

“That joke wasn’t even funny the first time you said it.” Clay huffs.

“No, it was funny. I’m the apex predator of comedy.” George laughs, loud and bright.

Clay can’t help but smile. “You’re such an idiot.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m still not hearing ‘no,’ Clay.” 

“Shut up.” Clay mutters and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“I’ll text you after I book my flight.” George says and Clay promptly hangs up.

Clay pockets his phone and stares at the wall for a few minutes, because  _ what the fresh fuck? _

—

“So when’s the wedding, though?”

“The  _ what?”  _ Clay asks Nick.

“I’m hurt, dude. You’d think your best man would actually be invited to the most important day of your life.” Nick fake sniffles.

“Are you on acid? Do you smoke crack? You smoke crack, don’t you?” Clay asks dryly.

“Stop bullshitting me. George literally told me he’s flying out to Florida next week, right after he said on stream that he wants to marry you for the green card.” Nick laughs into the phone loudly and Clay has to hold it away from his ear. “I was born on a day but it wasn’t yesterday. Even an idiot could put two and two together.”

“Yeah, we’re getting married. Not having a wedding. There’s a difference. This is just for legal purposes.” Clay replies defensively. 

“Sure. But why not have a wedding, though? Even if it’s just for the hell of it.”

“Because George is George. I’m not  _ actually  _ marrying him.” Clay rolls his eyes. “We’re getting divorced as soon as he gets his green card.”

“But what if you don’t? This might be your only chance to have a wedding. In ten years you’ll regret missing out on something like this.”

“Oh. My. God. How many times do I have to tell you: I’m divorcing George after. I’ll have a wedding when I have a  _ real  _ marriage.” 

“But what if you catch feels, bro? George is a pretty-boy, it’s going to happen.” Nick says without a hint of doubt. 

“If I ever have an actual wedding you’re not invited to it.” Clay deadpans and resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. 

“Sure.” Nick says, because they both know it’s not true.

—

Clay wonders if there’s some unwritten rule prohibiting the wearing of basketball shorts to the courthouse when the clerk gives him a Certificate of Marriage and the stink eye. Maybe it’s just because old men in Florida are generally homophobic, maybe it’s because Clay is wearing California Laker’s merch in the home of the Miami Heat. 

George isn’t dressed much better. He’s in jeans and a graphic t-shirt that mimics the design of a tuxedo, because his sense of humor is terrible. 

Their god awful attire only makes the whole thing feel even more surreal. They’re in and out of the courthouse in thirty minutes. It seems far too easy to get fucking married.

“You’re a fashion terrorist.” Clay tells George plainly when they’re back in the car.

“That’s not how you should speak to your husband. Hey, where’s my ring? We’re supposed to be married, after all.”

“Get out of my car.”

_ “Our  _ car. This is your car. You are my husband. Through the transitive property this is also my car.” George puts his feet on the dash and folds his arms behind his head smugly.

“You’re the worst. Did you know that?” Clay starts the ignition. “I’m really starting to regret this.”

“Sorry. I’m just joking, you know. I’ll stop if you want me to.” George says and immediately takes his feet off the dashboard. “I really appreciate you doing this for me. Thank you, Clay.”

“Whatever.” Clay mumbles. He feels heat rise in his cheeks and pointedly stares out the window. “Just buckle up, dipshit.”

—

George fits into Clay’s life so well, that Clay wonders how he had ever lived without George just down the hall. There’s an unspoken agreement between them that George is going to stay with Clay until he finds a place of his own, but if Clay’s honest, he doesn’t really want that to happen. George is the bagel bite to Clay’s pizza roll, the Haagen Dazs to his Ben and Jerry’s, the sun to his moon. They’re polar opposites but maybe that’s why they work. 

It’s not until George falls asleep on Clay’s shoulder, wearing one of Clay’s hoodies and with Patches nestled between them, that Clay realizes how royally fucked he is.

“You’re catching feelings aren’t you?” Nick deadpans when Clay FaceTimes him later that night.

Clay, deliberately and painstakingly, dabs. 

“Dude, I’m being serious.”

“You think I’m not? I don’t know how to deal with this, Nick.” Clay hisses at the screen. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Not to say I told you so, but I bet you’re wishing you had that wedding now.” 

“Not the time, Nick.” Clay groans. “What do I do?”

“What do you mean? Just tell George.” 

“Are you crazy? I can’t do that.”

“Why not? George is a good guy. Even if he doesn’t like you, it’ll still be chill.” 

“I can’t.” Clay reiterates.

“You’re so damn annoying.” Nick sighs exasperatedly.

—

”I actually have something for you, George.” The chain around Clay’s neck rests heavily against his heart.

“What is it?” George is laying on the couch with a pair of bluelight glasses on and Clay hates how cute he looks.

Clay unclasps the necklace and hands it to George. On it hangs two rings. 

“Clay, you know we’re not like  _ married-married _ , right?” George smiles at him uncertainly.

“I know.” Clay laughs breathily, mirth in his eyes. 

“I’m confused.”

“I just figured that even if it’s only for the green card, we might as well look the part. It felt weird to not have rings. Think of it as a promise, that you’ll always be my best friend, I guess.”

“You know, if I had to marry someone, I’m glad it was you.” George flashes Clay a tired, but genuine smile. He slips a ring onto Clay’s finger and hands one to Clay for him to do the same. “A promise.” George muses tenderly and locks their pinkies together.

Clay’s heart does this weird fluttering thing and he forgets how to breathe for a few seconds. 

“Yeah. Same here. I’m glad it’s you, too.” Clay replies finally, and clears his throat awkwardly. “Even though you kind of forced my hand in marriage.”

“I didn’t force you.”

“Yeah, you didn’t.” Clay admits. “You’re just very persuasive.”

“What can I say? I’m your gorgeous and charming Nigerian Prince.”

“You’re also fucking annoying and unfunny.” Clay snorts.

“That too.” George laughs. “But you still love me.”

“Unfortunately.” Clay mutters, meaning it in more ways than one.

—

“Shit, Clay? What are you doing here?” George whips his head around to face Clay, who has a white paper plate with a crudely drawn smiley face on it attached to his head. “I’m in the middle of my love or host. Leave.”

There’s an odd bunch of characters on screen: ranging from mxmtoon to Schlatt. It’s a very strange combination of people and George isn’t sure why he agreed to come on the show again in the first place. He doesn’t even really like any of them. Regardless, they all seem equally surprised to see Clay on camera.

“Austin actually requested that I come on as a special guest, so I figured, why not do it with you?” 

_ “Clay, you’re right on time!”  _ Austin bellows, but his voice sounds tinny through the computer.

George can’t even see Clay’s face, but he knows that he has that dumb cocky look on his face. “Whatever. I don’t care. If that’s what you want to do, then have at it.”

“Great. Get up.” 

“Excuse me?” George asks.

“I’ll let you sit back down but just get up for a second, okay?”

“No.” George tries to say, but Clay is already, manhandling him out of the chair.

“Come here.” Without warning Clay grabs George by the waist and pulls him to sit on his lap, something possessive in his grip.

“What the hell are you doing?” George splutters, but makes no effort to get up.

“Being efficient with our space. Should probably get another chair in here though, for next time.” Clay says casually.

“Fine. Just whatever you want to do here, get it over with. Ask a question or something, Austin.” George sighs and tells the screen.

_ “Alright. There’s been rumors that you married Clay for a green card, George. Is this true?”  _ Austin asks.

“No comment.” George grits out. Because, yeah, that’s exactly what he did. But for some reason it’s kind of embarrassing to admit to it.

“Actually, George is my Nigerian Prince, if you know what I mean, Austin.” Clay jokes. His mask quirks up at the corner and George wonders if he just winked.  _ Dumbass _ .

Schlatt barks something about illegal immigration to keep up his bit, but other than that, everyone looks just as dumbfounded as George feels.

_ “You seem like you have a lot you’d like to say, Clay. Is there anything you want to tell the contestants?”  _

“Actually, yeah.” Clay faces the camera. “You might win this, you might lose this, you might have chosen love, you might have chosen host. No matter what happens, this is to whoever here wins: don’t forget that you’re just the side piece.  _ I’m  _ the trophy wife here, capiche?”

“Excuse us for a minute.” George says pleasantly, and drags Clay into the hallway. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hisses.

“Nothing. Just saving you from wasting your time.” Clay answers innocently.

“This isn’t a waste of time.” George defends weakly.

“Even if it isn’t, do you like any of them? You looked miserable on the stream. After the last LOH you did, all you could tell me was about how much you hated it.”

“I mean, they’re alright. I want to be friends with some of them, I guess.” George shrugs. “Even if I didn’t like them, at the end of the day, it’s a good networking opportunity.” 

“You don’t need them. You have me.” Clay answers sincerely. 

This makes George falter. “Yeah?” He feels his heart swell with unadulterated fondness.

“I mean, you still should probably go through the motions of the rest of this stream.” Clay replies. “You don’t need to go on there again though. My friends are your friends, transitive property and all that.”

George links their pinkies together in unspoken agreement. “Transitive property.” He grins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the support on chapter 1! I’ve been overwhelmed by the recent attention my other work, Coming Undone, has received, but I’m so grateful for every comment and kudos that I receive <333

“What’s this supposed to be?” 

“A cake.” George deadpans. “Are you visually challenged or something?” 

Clay decides he won’t point out that George is the colorblind one.

“No, but why’d you get a cake?”

“It’s for our one month marriage anniversary. Don’t tell me you forgot?” George looks mildly pissed off, if not for the smile on his lips. “I’m your husband, remember?”

“You’re such an idiot.” Clay mutters but takes out two plates from the cabinet next to the stove. “You do know it’s fake, right? Like, we’re not  _ actually  _ married.”

“Not in the eyes of the law we’re not.” George laughs.

“That sentence barely made sense.”

“Whatever, asshat. All I know is that we have a legal marriage license.”

The cake is heart-shaped and has frosting delicately piped along the edge. In neat blue letters, it reads ‘Happy One Month Anniversary!’ It’s sickly endearing and it makes Clay want to cry. Because of course it’s all a joke. 

“Here.” George smiles and hands Clay a slice of cake. Sunlight pours in through the kitchen window behind George and frames his face like a golden halo, his hair turning a pale brown in the light. Clay wants to kiss him so much that he feels ill.

“Thanks.” Clay swallows roughly. “You’re still an idiot, though.”

George faces him, something tender and foreign in his gaze. He looks like he’s about to respond, but instead smears a glob of frosting across Clay’s forehead. Through the frosting, Clay can briefly feel the coolness of George’s ring.

“Sorry. My hand slipped.” George says and bolts down the hall before Clay can even process what just happened.

Clay watches dumbfounded for a few moments and time feels frozen. Absentmindedly, he brings his hand to his face, the place where George touched him burns kindly.

“Likely story.” Clay intones and hurries after him, once his mind has returned to his body. “Come here, George!”

George’s laughter bounces off the walls and reminds Clay of what it’s like to feel whole. It’s a pleasant, warm sound and Clay wants nothing more than to bask in it forever. Clay decides that he’s let George smear frosting on him a hundred times over if it meant that he’d never stop laughing.

Clay catches up to George and grabs him by his waist, holding him in place.

“You got me.” George breathes, staring up at Clay with doe eyes.

“Nowhere to run.” Clay steps further into George’s space so that his back is pressed against the wall. They’re chest to chest, close enough that Clay can count George’s eyelashes. 

“For now.” George grins and presses his lips against Clay’s. It happens in an instant, so quick that Clay has to wonder if it even happened. 

“What?” Clay says dumbly, still processing whatever the fuck  _ that  _ was. His heart stutters in his chest and he wonders if this is how he’ll die.

“Got you! Pranked!” George cackles playfully as he nearly skips away from Clay. 

Absentmindedly, Clay runs the tips of his fingers along his bottom lip, searching for the ghost of George’s kiss.

—

“He kissed me.” Clay laments into the phone. 

“It’s fine, dude.” Nick groans. “You need to chill. It’s not a big deal.”

“You don’t get it. He  _ kissed  _ me.” Clay whines. “On the lips.”

“Yeah, I heard you the other fifty times you said it. I know.” Nick sighs. “He was probably just getting back at you for ruining his LOH.”

“What do I do?” 

“Literally nothing. He was joking.” Nick groans. 

“What if I don’t want it to be a joke?” Clay asks quietly.

“Why are you this fucking whipped for a motherfucker that can’t even see the color green?” Nick snorts. “Bro, this is tragic.” 

“Shut up, I need advice.” 

“Clay, you literally joke about boning him all the time. It’s on you for manifesting this.” Nick snorts.

_ “Nick.”  _ Clay whines, dragging out the vowel in his name.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like you’re in the friend-zone or anything. You’re deadass married to the guy. That’s the ultimate, just go in reverse or something.” 

“Thanks for being useless.” Clay huffs and hangs up. He flops back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. Memories of all those times he joked about being in love with George flicker through his mind, and he wonders if somehow he’s Pavloved himself into actually believing he is. 

—

It’s midday on a Tuesday, and Clay is drunk off his ass on stream. It’s probably not a great combination, but in Clay’s defense it’s the best coping mechanism he has to deal with being in love with his idiot best friend.

“Okay, hear me out.” Clay says in lieu of a greeting, slurring slightly. “Cat people.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Karl stops what he’s doing and turns to face Clay in-game. “Dude, are you drunk?”

“Just a little bit.” Clay admits. “Don’t worry though, chat is on sub-only mode.”

“It’s literally noon. That’s not healthy dude.” 

“Cat. People.” Clay ignores him.

“Like the ones in Cats? As in the musical? That’s kind of weirdchamp, not gonna lie.” Karl laughs.

“God no. Like cat ears and shit.” 

“Are you a furry, Dream? Is that what you’re getting at here?” Karl teases. “Maybe we should get Fundy in the call.”

“Asshat, you know that’s not what I mean.” Clay complains. 

“I’m not sure actually, want to elaborate?” Karl laughs.

“Just, like, imagine George in cat ears.” Clay watches as his chat blows up with ‘cat boy gogy,’ and wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Are you pandering again? Is that what this is?”

“Why would I do that?” Clay frowns.

Karl doesn’t respond. 

“Karl? You still there?” 

“Yeah, but I’d stay off Twitter if I were you.” 

—

“What the hell are you wearing?” Clay demands.

“Cat ears, obviously.” George rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,  _ obviously,  _ asshat. Why, though?” Clay forces himself to make eye contact with George, but his eyes keep wandering toward the black cat ears nestled at the crown of George's head. The insides are a dainty pink and a pale blue bow is attached to each one. 

“Chat likes it and so do you apparently. Why not?” George smirks. He shakes his head slightly and the little bells attached to them ringing faintly. “Do you like them?”

Clay feels like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown. “I hate you.”

“How about this,  _ meow _ .” George says flatly. “Did that turn you on?”

“No.” Clay says dryly, even though the answer is actually a shameful ‘yeah, kinda.’ 

“You’re just jealous of how many subs I’m going to get.” George says playfully, eyes glittering with mirth. 

_ “Sure.  _ That’s  _ definitely  _ it.” Clay replies, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“You should wear cat ears, too. You’d look good.” George says casually. “It would bring in some primes, too.”

Clay tries not to make it obvious that he’s having heart palpitations. “Nah.”

“I’m serious. You’re cute. If you ever do a face reveal I’ll let you borrow the money-makers here.” George smirks and flicks the bell on one of them. 

Clay tries to form a sentence but all that comes to mind is how the pink flush dusted across George’s cheeks matches his goddamn cat ears. It’s in that moment that Clay realizes George is going to be the death of him. 

—

“End me. I’m serious.” Clay says vehemently as soon as Nick picks up the FaceTime call.

“Well if it isn’t the bane of my existence.” Nick drawls. “The resident George-simp.” 

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.” Clay slams his head against the desk.

“Chill. You can’t afford to lose any brain cells. It’s public knowledge that you’re a nimrod.” Nick laughs. 

“You sound like Karl.”

“I’m glad. That means Karl knows how stupid you are, too.” Nick mutters.

“Stop it. I’m really gonna lose it.” 

“Okay, fine.” Nick holds his hands up. “What happened this time? Is it the cat thing?”

“Don’t call it that, but  _ yes _ it’s the cat thing.” Clay hisses.

“Have you considered that maybe you bring this shit on yourself? You literally proclaimed yourself president of Cat-Boy-Gogy-Nation.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Clay protests weakly.

“You’re spending too much time with George. You’re becoming such a drama queen.” Nick huffs. “Dude, he’s literally just flirting back with you.”

“No. That’s impossible.” Clay grumbles.

“No it’s not. You’re just a pussy.” 

“I literally don’t need to stay on this call and let you bully me.” Clay complains even though he has no intent to hang up.

“Okay, Gabbie Hanna.”

Clay grimaces. He doesn’t know much about her, but he thinks it’s an insult. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to stop acting so helpless and tell George that you like him, dumbass.” Nick snaps. “Don’t call me again until you have made an actual move that doesn’t revolve around your fucking furry activities.”

“Nick…” 

“I mean it, you need to get over yourself. If you don’t tell George, I will.”

“You can’t do that. I’m serious, it’s not your place to interfere in my relationships.” Clay grits out. 

“I’m literally the backbone of our friend group.  _ Watch me.”  _ Nick says and promptly hangs up.

Clay stares at the black screen for several minutes and resists the urge to scream into the abyss.

—

In Clay’s defense, most of what he knows of love is from the Bee Movie. His toolbox of flirting abilities relies not on charisma or suaveness, but poorly concealed gay panic under the guise of humor and faux confidence. It’s a poor mix when your love interest is dense as fuck.

“I have a crush on you.” Clay blurts out impulsively. They’re in the middle of Walmart buying cat litter for Patches. It’s not really romantic, but it’s painfully domestic in a way that makes Clay want to spill his guts.

“Cool beans. I don’t see the brand you said you usually get. Do you want to ask someone here or go to another store?” George answers.

“Excuse me?” Clay twists his ring anxiously.

“I know how fussy cats can be, maybe we should just go to the Petco down the street. They’d probably have it.” George muses.

_ “George.”  _

“What? Is that not okay?” 

“Did you not hear what I said before?” Clay tries not to grind his teeth together. He prays that George doesn’t make him spell it out.

“That you like me? I’d hope so, you are my husband after all.” George laughs breathily. “Come on, we should make a decision before Patches shits in the kitchen again.”

“Yeah.” Clay mutters bitterly. Because it’s always just a joke, isn’t it?

—

“I’m heading out. I’ll be back soon.” 

“Where are you going?” George sits up from where he’s laying on the couch and sets his phone aside. “I’ll come with you, it’s late.”

“I’m just going for a short drive around the block. You don’t need to come.” Clay jangles his keys and smiles good-naturedly. 

“If you’re sure.” George says, though he still seems reluctant.

“I’m sure. I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

—

It feels good to drive around with his windows down and the radio blaring. In the dark, on his own, it’s just him and the pale moon. 

At some point, Clay finds himself migrating onto the highway. He supposes it’s fine as long as he stays in the area. Shimmering lights surround him: the warm glow of the streetlamps and the coldness of the stars. 

George lingers in his mind, but it doesn’t hurt. Here, in the night, nothing can hurt him. Not even being hopelessly in love with his best friend could make him cry. 

Miles and hours blur together as he heads north. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon as he stops for gas. When he checks his phone, it brings a sinking feeling to his gut. There are twenty missed calls from George, and at least a dozen more texts.

“What the fuck, Clay?” George’s voice is shrill through his phone’s speaker. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m…not sure actually. I think somewhere in Georgia?”

“Georgia?! You’re in another state?”

“I’m sorry.” Clay chews the inside of his cheek nervously.

“That’s not good enough. I’ve been waiting for you to get back for almost five hours. In all that time, you couldn’t have thought to call me? Or even send me a fucking text?” 

For some reason, anger flares up within him. “I’m not obligated to tell you where I am every second of the day. Stop overreacting.” Clay huffs.

“You’re such an ass. I’m only doing this because I care about you!” 

Clay opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, George hangs up. The entire drive home, the bitter sweetness of tears remains on his tongue.

—

“What’s wrong with you?” George demands the moment Clay steps out of the car, pulling him into a fierce hug. “You can’t do shit like this.”

“I’m sorry.” Clay mumbles against George’s hair.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you had gotten into an accident or something.” George sniffles, roughly scrubbing at his eyes. “What if you had died? You can’t leave me like that, Clay.”

Clay strokes George’s hair until he stops crying, but even then, keeps holding him. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“How can I trust you?” George whispers hoarsely.

“Because…” Clay trails off and sighs. “Because I like you, George. Not for jokes, not because of our fake marriage. I mean it.” 

A moment of silence passes between them, and Clay realizes how royally fucked he is. George steps back and holds him at an arm's length. He rubs the back of his neck and Clay can see the gears turning in his head.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Clay got into a car crash and died LMAO. But then I reminded myself that this is a crack/fluff fic and I seriously need to stop killing off my characters LOL 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw // implied/referenced sexual content but nothing explicit and hopefully not outside of the T rating (correct me if I’m wrong pls) :0

Clay feels his heart sink and panicked nausea rise in his chest. Something heavy presses down on his chest, cold and painful, snuffing out his last bit of hope. He really fucked up. “You what?” He manages.

“You’re the worst.” George looks him dead in the eye. “I seriously can’t stand you, I mean it.”

Clays hands are clammy and he feels numb, as though he’s witnessing this from a third person’s perspective. “I’m sorry.” He feels his lips form the words, but he can hardly hear himself. 

“You better be.” George says firmly and grabs him by the collar, pulling him close enough that their noses are nearly touching. 

“I’m sorry.” Clay whispers again, quietly enough that it’s barely audible. He wills himself not to break as the palpable tension in the air oppresses him.

“Come here, Clay.” George breathes, and presses their lips together. Clay’s tears smudge across George’s, but George holds him close. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“It’s okay?” Clay asks meekly as George snakes his hand around Clay’s neck to rest at the base of his skull. 

“I don’t actually hate you, Clay.” George laughs, somewhat remorsefully. “Far from it actually.”

Clay can’t remember how to breathe. George looks at him, eyes watery but tender, and Clay understands. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted to do this forever.” George answers firmly. “I’ve liked you for years, you asshole. You can’t just go to North Caroline and drop  _ this  _ on me.”

_ “South Carolina, actually.” _ Clay mumbles, but then he realizes, “Wait, you’ve liked me for _ years?” _

“Are you kidding me?” George glares at him. “God, you’re dense. Do you have any idea how oblivious you are?”

“Um.” Clay stammers, tears drying to salty streaks on his face. “Not really? But I guess that it’s kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy.” 

“One of these days I’m going to fucking run you over with my electric scooter and it’s going to be so embarrassing for you.” George responds dryly.

“Um, alright?” Clay shrugs. He’s fine with anything as long as it’s with George. “I’m still kind of freaking out about this whole thing. You  _ like  _ me?”

“Yeah.” George says as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh.” Clay tries to wrap his mind around it all.

“I’m glad you’re safe, asshole.” George pulls Clay into another bone-crushing hug and leans his mouth close to Clay’s ear. “But  _ I swear,  _ if you ever pull this shit again I will shit in your cat’s litter box.”

“That’s weird, George.” Clay laughs. Though it’s oddly threatening.

“I haven’t slept in a day and a half, cut me some slack.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Clay murmurs against George’s lips.

—

“Hey, where’s your ring?” Clay frowns. He watches as George carefully slices a peach on a wooden chopping board. His hands are bare for the first time since they left the courthouse.

“Um, about that.” George laughs nervously and fiddles with the handle of the knife.

“What is it, baby?” 

“I rage-threw it into your backyard and I think the raccoon that always chills there ate it.” George answers hurriedly. “I was ready to divorce you at that point, honestly.”

“How do you know it was garbage raccoon?” 

“That bastard did it right in front of me.” George explains hesitantly. 

“Oh. Well, that’s alright.” Clay shrugs. “I’m just glad you didn’t get to the marriage license and burn it or something, because then we’d seriously be in trouble”

“You’re not mad?” 

“Nah.” Clay smiles easily and snatches a peach slice from the plate George set them on. They’re still warm from the sun and syrupy sweet. “But if you want, I’ll get you a new one.”

“You’re too good to me.” George says and takes Clay’s hand.

“Yeah, well I have a lot of making up to do.” Clay promises.

“Damn right.” George takes a bite of a peach slice and immediately chokes, ruining the moment. After a few loud coughs, George seems to recover, but it’s just so  _ him  _ that Clay wants to laugh.

“You okay?” Clay rubs George’s back in consolation. 

“Fuck.” George breathes raggedly. “That peach almost did me in.”

“I love you.” Clay blurts. Even when he’s choking on a piece of fucking fruit, George is still so hopelessly endearing to Clay.

For a split second, George looks bewildered, but then his expression smooths into one of fondness, “I love you, too.”

—

“George called me when you went on your little road trip or whatever.” Nick says offhandedly. “How are things between you guys now anyway?”

“He called you?” Clay stares at his phone to look at Nick, and make sure Nick isn’t shitting him. 

“Yeah, dude. It was some Romeo and Juliet ish, I was seriously worried for a second.” Nick says but there is something about it that sounds like a warning.

Clay decides not to point out that Nick has probably never read Shakespeare in his life. “What’d George say?”

“He told me loved you. He was asking if I knew where you were, just so—if nothing else—he’d be able to tell you that just once.” Nick replies, uncharacteristically seriously. 

“Oh.” Clay answers dumbly, and feels like a humongous jerk. Even though things are good between him and George, it is still a wound that burns fresh.

“I was scared, too. You’re impulsive and unpredictable, Clay. You’re also a reckless driver.” Nick sighs. “I promised George that you’d be back, but even I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah. I know.” Clay runs a hand through his hair and Patches comes up behind him to brush against his legs. She mewls slightly as though to ask, ‘Everything, okay?’

“Sorry, I know I just unloaded a lot on you.”

“No. It’s fine. I should hear it.” Clay makes eye contact with Nick. “Thank you, though. For being there for George when I wasn’t. I love you, brother.”

“Love you too, man. But George is my friend, you know. Of course I was there for him, you don’t need to thank me.” Nick laughs heartily, before saying, “Plus I gave him full permission to curb stomp you when you got back.”

“Curb stomp?” Clay feels like he’s just been through emotional whiplash.

“Yeah. But gently, though. Just enough to flatten your ego and get your ass out of your head.” 

“I think it’s ‘head out of ass.’”

“Well, it doesn’t matter for you, does it? Both are full of shit.” Nick snarks.

Clay can only laugh, because some things never change.

“Are you still married to him?” Nick asks. 

“Yeah, I mean kind of. We’re dating but we’re married.” Clay fiddles with his ring. Things have always been complicated between them. Friendship bleeding into love. Marriage bleeding into dating. It’s just a strange aspect of the unique dynamic they have.

“I’m surprised he didn’t divorce you on the spot.” Nick snorts.

“Yeah, well.” Clay shrugs. “I’m just irresistibly charming. He can’t stay away.”

“You have the charm of a gutted fish.” Nick deadpans. 

“Says you. I bet you don’t even wash your ass when you shower.” 

“You’re dating George so your opinion of me is automatically invalid.” 

“Excuse me? What did you imply about my husband?” Clay gasps in faux dismay. 

“Okay I’m out, dude. You’re acting too much like George. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“What? Got a hot date or something?”

“Something like that.” Nick replies cryptically, mischief dancing in his gaze. Abruptly, the call ends.

—

“Damn, you look clapped.” Clay slides a plate of eggs across the table to George. “Here, I made breakfast.” 

“Thanks.” George answers curtly. His hood is pulled low over his head and he looks exhausted.

Clay thinks back to last night and has to wonder if his dick game was actually that bad. Images of pale, sweat-slick skin and pliant lips flash through his mind, moments that feel permanently seared into the back of his eyelids. He remembers the way George begged and keened beneath his touch. But seeing how miserable and quiet George is makes him wonder if it was just all for show.

“Everything alright?” Clay asks cautiously. He’s been treading lightly after the stunt he pulled, but he’s still nervous.

George doesn’t answer. Clay waits patiently for him to respond, but after a few minutes he is unsure if George is giving him the silent treatment. It is not until he notices the tautness in George’s shoulders and the small gasping noises he’s making that Clay realizes that something is terribly wrong. 

“It’s my cat.” George’s voice cracks. “I was meant to bring him with me when I came here, but he wasn’t well enough to fly.”

“What’s wrong with him? Is he…” Clay glances toward where Patches lounges beneath the open window. His stomach turns at the thought of losing her. “Dead?” Clay finishes reluctantly.

“No. He’s not dead, but he's not doing well. My parents have been taking care of him, but I don’t know how long he has left.” George continues bitterly. “I need to go back to England.”

“Okay, then let’s go. If I book it now, we could probably get on a plane by tonight.” 

_ “We?”  _ George echoes. 

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to come with you.”

“I just can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me.”

“I want to. Please, let me come with you, George.” Clay insists.

“Thank you, Clay.” George starts to sob. “Thank you.” 

“Well you are my husband, after all.” Clay teases and wipes the tears from George’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb. 

“Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.” George smiles at him, sad but sincere. “Even if it was fake.”

Clay has to agree as his heart swells with love.

—

“You had the audacity to call me a cracker but you made us come to the airport four hours before our flight.” George complains. He still seems a bit anxious, but Clay will take any bit of lightheartedness as a win, even at his own expense.

“Hey, you never know what’s going to happen. And it’s important we get on this flight.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” George concedes, but then seems to change his mind. “What else are we doing, clapping when the plane lands?”

“No.” Clay says even though he does every time. 

“To be fair, I used to sit on my hands to restrain myself from clapping.” George giggles and takes a sip of his seven dollar airport coffee.

“Who’s the cracker now?” Clay grins slyly. “But you’re  _ my  _ cracker.” 

“Whatever.” George turns away from Clay, but it doesn’t hide the blush high on his cheekbones. 

“You’re blushing. I called you a cracker and you’re blushing.” Clay jeers. “You’re ridiculous. Do you like degradation or something?”

“No. Shut up.” George mutters and blushes even redder. 

“You love me.” 

“I do.” George says, expression genuine. “Thank you for coming with me. You didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s nothing.” Clay waves his hand dismissively. “I’m happy to go anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

“Marriage perks?” 

“Nah. I just love you.” 

“Oh my god. Stop it. I’m not trying to have the TSA guy hate crime me.” George punches him lightly in his shoulder. 

An elderly woman with an ugly yellow purse in line with them for the metal detector sends them a dirty look and Clay has to laugh. He m

“Why’re you laughing?” George looks up at him.

“That hag over there is going to die and she’s wasting her time being homophobic. Rot in hell grandma.” Clay says under his breath.

“That’s terrible. You can’t say that shit, Clay.” George chides, but he can’t hide his own grin.

—

“Want to hold him?” George holds out his cat to Clay.

“Sure, I’ll trade you.” Clay casually slides a ring onto George’s finger while the cat sits on the couch beside his hip.

“What’s this?” George examines the white gold band in the dim light of the fireplace. 

“A ring.” Clay gently pets the furball in his lap.

“Yeah, no shit.” George intones.

“You said you lost your other one.” Clay shrugs. “I thought it should be replaced.”

“You didn’t have to. We’re not even married for real, yet.” George protests.

“Yet?” Clay smirks. They’ve only been dating for a few weeks, so he knows George doesn’t really mean it, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about it.

“Shut up.“ George mutters. 

“What can I say? You’re my Nigerian prince scam. You got to look the part.” 

“And you’re my green card.” George laughs, loud and unadulterated. 

Clay pulls him in for a kiss and everything is as it should be.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like thanos at the end but I srsly had no clue how to end this LMAOKDKSSK 
> 
> Also! Garbage raccoon is still out here thriving in any universe :) Queen shit. 
> 
> If anyone wants to say hi to me I’m @porpolsunsets on Twitter :D 
> 
> As always, thank you for all the support on my writing!! It makes me so indescribably happy
> 
> Here’s to 2021, I hope everyone has a great year! <33 I love you :)


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